


Training Wheels

by Sakakura



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 02:59:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16845811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakakura/pseuds/Sakakura
Summary: Practice that isn’t quite practice, but rather a helpful pretext to dance around the issue. It works, for now.





	Training Wheels

The kiss doesn’t mean anything.

He hums into the kiss as the hands entangled in his hair trace irregular but practiced patterns, fingers lazily playing with the shorter strands on the back of his head. The spot where their lips connect is made out of a certain kind of static, the kind that makes his mind go blank, the kind that makes him overthink everything afterwards.

But right this second he’s not thinking about much. His mind works in sensations, and he allows himself to feel the warmth, to relax into the kiss, to sigh and cup the other boy’s cheek in his hand. Right this second, this is just a kiss.

It feels like an eternity, it feels like no time at all. A second, yes, it’s probably a second, or hours, or years. No matter. The important thing is drinking in that warm feeling, basking in it, drawing it out as long as he can before—

The hands in his hair travel to his shoulders, lightly pushing him away, the tingling sensation still present for a split-second after their lips separate.

Reality comes back into focus when his kissing partner chuckles.

“D’awww, you were getting so into it, Saihara-chan! That’s _adorable_.” Kokichi Ouma sits back in his chair, eyeing him with a shit-eating, lopsided grin. “You still suck, but I’ll give you a gold star for that enthusiasm!”

If there ever was someone who needed his ego inflated immensely, it was definitely not _him_ —it was already amazing that his huge head could fit through doors. So of course, if possible he didn’t like feeding Ouma’s sense of self-importance usually, but this time… this time he might have slipped up. Might’ve let himself go… just a bit. And just a bit is enough for him.

Shuichi Saihara sighs in exasperation, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels a headache coming on.

“Hey, c’mon, don’t get maaad! I’m just kidding!” Ouma peers at him, his teeth still flashing in a still-very-insincere smile, and chuckles when Saihara rolls his eyes at him. “I mean it, I mean it! Like, you weren’t spectacular or anything, but at least you’ve finally mastered the art of not drooling all over my chin.”

“I can always count on you for backhanded compliments, Ouma-kun.”

“Waaaah Saihara-chan is so mad at me!” Fat crocodile tears begin forming in the corners of his classmate’s eyes, his voice cracking with his trademark fake crying, high-pitched tone. Then they spill. “WAAAAH, you meanie! Even though I’m so nice and considerate!”

It’s such an intentionally bad lie that it’s laughable, and to his surprise, that’s exactly what Saihara finds himself doing. He rolls his eyes one more time and shakes his head in disapproval, sure, but with it comes an honest-to-god chuckle, a wave of amusement. Uncrossing his arms, he finds himself stretching his arm out and patting Ouma on the head. “There, there.”

Apparently that was a good move. Ouma straightens up, tears dry and his smile firmly back in place. Nothing out of the ordinary, this kind of exchange has already become something of a routine for them.

It almost seems like it was yesterday when his classmate asked him if he’d want to kiss. No, no, if he wanted to _practice_ kissing.

_“Ah, Saihara-chan, you’re interested in Akamatsu-chan aren’t you?” The sing-song voice makes his ears turn red, panic rises in his stomach. “Rela-a-ax, I won’t tell a soul! I can pinky promise, and if I lie you can swallow a thousand needles… that’s how it goes, right?”_

He closes his eyes. The topic had veered into it at some point—into his lack of experience at kissing, into him considering his options and thinking that although a little unconventional, this could definitely work as a practice run of sorts before the real thing happened. And even if Akamatsu never agreed to go on a date with him… hopefully others would come. Hopefully all of this would be worth it.

Now, months later… well, it’s hard to say, but at the very least he doesn’t regret accepting the proposition.

Ouma finishes putting his stuff away in his bag and jumps to his feet, the sunset sun casting a strange contrast of orange-purple hues on him. Only a few minutes before had they realized that it was getting a little bit later than usual and that the other boy should for sure go home already. They’d been so engrossed in their own stuff, half-kissing, half-hanging out, that they’d forgotten how fast time flies when you’re just goofing around. Even the thought of turning the lights on as the darkness of sundown started creeping in slipped their minds completely.

It’s only right as the shorter boy is putting his heavy winter jacket back on that Saihara notices how quiet they’ve been for a little while now.

“Something the matter?” Maybe because of that, Ouma seems a little startled to hear his voice.

Turning to him, Kokichi Ouma wears a strange look on his face. Blank… or maybe just calculating, or maybe just a little bit lost. But it’s only fleeting, and Saihara wonders if it was there at all, or if he just imagined it, because the next thing he knows, his classmate is all smiles once again.

“Nu-uh! I was just thinking that you must reaaally like Akamatsu-chan, you know? You’re putting so much effort into this.”

Words dangling in front of him, in the dead silence of the empty house. Dangling like bait. And Saihara doesn’t know if it’s just the weird lighting or what, but Ouma looks like he’s expecting him to take it. Like he already knows that he’ll take it.

Shuichi Saihara blinks.

“Well… I don’t know. If it’s a question of whether I like her or not—I do. We _are_ friends, after all. But maybe it was rushed of me to decide that I was… romantically interested.”

“Hm? What are we doing this for, then?”

“I do have someone I might be… interested in. That way.” As aloof as he tries to act, Saihara feels the tip of his ears begin to burn, and hopes that the darkness of the room can hide his embarrassment.

Sadly, that same darkness makes Ouma even more unreadable than usual. The shadows grow thicker as the sun rays dwindle, and his classmate is just standing there, orange-purple, almost like he’s waiting for a signal of some kind.

“So… I-I think practicing would still come in handy. You know. Just in case.”

“Hm—?” A humming noise, a hint of amusement. In the darkness of his own room, Saihara thinks he can see the faintest hint of red on Ouma’s normally pale skin, but that could just be the strange lighting. “Aah, indeed, that’s so mature of you Saihara-chan! You’ll just keep using the training wheels until the last available second, huh?”

“Again with the backhanded compliments…”

He hadn’t expected to end up like this. It’s supposed to be nothing but practice for future endeavors. No feelings attached.

So maybe it’s been a couple of interesting months. And maybe he’s been hanging out with Kokichi Ouma, of all people, a whole lot, and maybe he’s gotten a little too attached to his silliness and his insightful moments too. And maybe, perhaps, just a little bit, part of him doesn’t dislike it whenever his classmate gets a little over excited and holds onto his hand, tugs him around with childish glee. Maybe, maybe he enjoys spending time with him, kissing or no kissing, and maybe he smiles at his phone whenever he sees one of his dumb texts, filled to the brim with very dated jokes.

Yes, indeed, the kissing in itself means nothing. But the feelings he tries to communicate every time they kiss...

“Al—right, I’m ready! See you later, Saihara-chan!”

“Wait up, I’ll walk you home. It’s getting kind of dark out.”

“Woaah, so gentlemanly!”

…Those do mean something.

**Author's Note:**

> For my wonderful wife 💙.


End file.
